Page 64 of The Serial Killer's Sister
‘But no point crying over spilt milk, eh?’ he says, putting both hands on her chest. My stomach flips. He’s going to kill her first. And he’s going to do it now. I give one almighty tug and my right hand releases with a loud tearing noise. Dean’s head snaps around and he glares at me, but in the split second it takes for him to see I’m free of my binding, I’m on him, my hands grasping his hair and yanking hard. For a moment, my entire body weight hangs from the clump of it gripped in my fist, then I bring my other arm up and wrap it around his neck. Serena flings her legs out and directs her bound feet upwards. With a sickening blow, they make contact with his groin. He drops the gun and doubles over, the air expelling from his lungs in one loudumphnoise. At the same time I land hard on the edge of the well. A sharp pain jabs at myribs, stealing the air from my lungs, and I struggle to catch my breath. I gasp through the gap in the tape and put my hands to it to rip it off, but I’m not quick enough. Frustration burns in my chest as my hands are yanked away. Dean’s on me, flipping me over to face him. I force my head to the side, but I can’t see Serena.
Where’s Serena?Oh my God – did he push her down the well? Did I knock her while I was grappling with Dean? Panic rises along with my heart rate, the frantic beating making me giddy.
‘You’re just like your brother,’ Dean rasps. ‘He put up a fight too.’
He pushes me, and I thrust my hands to his chest, holding on with all my strength. He forces me back until I’m teetering on the edge of the stone wall, the top half of me floating in the air above the drop. I attempt to speak, but now with little air and the tape still restricting my mouth, I fail to eject a single recognisable word.
‘Looks like it’s your turn,’ Dean says, his words forced through gritted teeth. I sense he’s weaker than before, the kick to his testicles maybe rendering him less powerful. I have to make the most of this moment, strike while he’s not at full strength. Our bodies are touching, grappling with each other, muscle against muscle, skin against skin in a desperate battle for survival.
In my head, the words I want to shout play out unheard.
It’s said that your life flashes before your eyes in the moments before death, and as I inch towards mine, images of my parents, my brother, Finley Hall, my only real friend there, and now my only real friend here, fly through my mind as the darkness of the hole envelops me.
Survival.
The word illuminates inside my skull and something deep within me gives me the strength to give one final push. I grab the front of his shirt and use it to regain my balance, taking him by surprise, then with a roar I pull him around so that his back is to the wall. I stagger away from it and, seeing Dean struggling to keep his balance, I realise this is my chance.
I know it, but I hesitate, my conscience questioning what I’m about to do. It’s a millisecond decision whether to use the opportunity to tear the tape from my mouth and take the chance that I will have time to say what I need to, or to put an end to this right now.
As I reach for the tape, he thrusts his hands towards me, and I know I can’t take another risk.
It’s him or me.
With everything I have, I lunge at him.
His hands flail, clutching at the air, desperately trying to grasp my clothes – he wants to take me with him. But the momentum takes him away from me. He yells and swears, understanding hitting him. Our eyes meet and I’ve the urge to try and catch him, my hands reaching to clutch his – it must be instinct – but my fingertips merely brush his as he disappears from view. There’s a few seconds of silence, then a blood-curdling crunch and I flinch as it echoes in my head – in my memory.
Then, silence.
I tear at the tape around my head, my lips, crying out as it pulls at my skin. I twist my mouth, open and close it to get the feeling back, then, with my pulse pounding in my ears, I scour the area for Serena.
Please be here,I pray silently. The thought of three bodies in the well is too much to endure.
I hear a low, deep moaning and let out a relieved breath. I run around to the other side of the well, where Serena lies on her back, her chest heaving.
She’s breathing. I’m not responsible for another death. I go to her and begin stripping off the tape.
‘He’s got to be dead, right?’ she gasps when I’ve freed her mouth.
I close my eyes and continue to suck in huge breaths of air through my mouth now I’m able. Dead. Dean Briggs is dead.
‘Even if he isn’t,’ I say, my voice breaking, ‘there’s no way he’ll climb out of there.’ It’s dark now, even darker down the well. I’m drawn to the edge, compelled to check he’s not somehow halfway back up. My pulse thrums as I lean forwards an inch and extend my neck so I can just peep over. I can’t see him clinging to the wall; I can’t hear any effort to escape. There’s no sound at all from down there. ‘Hello?’ I call. The single word, loudly spoken, scratches my throat. I allow some saliva to build, swallow a few times, then I shout, ‘Dean!’
I have to be certain.
Nothing.
A deep, guttural cry erupts from me, and I fall to the ground and sob. Serena sits beside me and wraps her arm around my shoulders and cries too. A few minutes pass with us huddled together, and when Serena’s tears stop, mine keep flowing. It’s like years’ worth of pain and anger is being let out, together with relief, regret, grief, and guilt.
Serena pulls me up, and holding me at arm’s length, she locks eyes with me.
‘Are you okay?’
I’m not even close to being okay, but I nod all the same.It’s easier than telling her the truth. There’ll be time for that later. There’s a confused expression on her face and I wonder if that’s in response to my own. I drag my hands down my face, my fingertips snagging on the sticky residue of the duct tape.
‘I’m fine. I will be fine.’ I say it not just to Serena, but to the universe – if I repeat it enough, it might become the case.
‘I’m so sorry,’ Serena says, tears swimming in her eyes again. ‘IswearI had no clue who he was.’
